


now open your eyes

by efreet



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: BBL spoilers, Gen, Post BBL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2346044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/efreet/pseuds/efreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's September 23rd, and Kazuaki pushes Shuu's wheelchair uphill, toward home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now open your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this all today and i haven't read it over properly i'm so sorry in advance. also bbl spoilers everywhere.

Kazuaki pushes the wheelchair up the hill with a sort of practiced exhaustion. Staying awake is hard enough, but actual physical labor? Horrible. The one time he’d almost fallen asleep until the wheelchair’s handles had come crashing into his stomach hadn’t been pleasant. He’d rather not repeat the experience, despite the fact the look on the doctor’s face at the time. It had been hilarious, and Kazuaki doesn’t find many things genuinely funny.

 

“Could you go any slower, or are you sleepwalking again?” Iwamine Shuu mutters, and Kazuaki lets go of the handlebars, letting it slide back a little bit before catching it again. “I see,” the doctor says. “Well, if you’re awake enough to threaten me with an untimely death, I suppose it can’t be helped,”

 

“Yes, well, it is quite a long walk,” Kazuaki says cheerfully. The sun is nearly setting; it sets off a nice glow against the pavement. “I wonder who it was that decided to buy an apartment on top of a hill, of all things?” 

 

“If I remember correctly, that was most certainly you,” Shuu retorts. He never would have chosen such a quaint location himself. 

 

Kazuaki shrugs, which jostles the wheelchair quite nicely. “I suppose we all make mistakes. That, and the fact that I thought you might be willing to push your own chair on the walks back,”

 

“I could get one of those motorized versions,” Shuu says, contemplative. “But then I would have to adjustive to life without fear for my wellbeing at all times,” 

 

“Mmmm,” Kazuaki nods, giving a hearty push up the last steep incline. “You should get a remote controlled one,”

 

“So you could drive me into walls? I don’t think so,” Shuu snorts. “And I doubt they make tools for the disabled that you can control like a child’s race car,” 

 

“You could invent one,” suggests Kazuaki, as they near the door to the apartment building at last. He steps away to unlock the door, then pulls it open.

 

“Excuse me, I’m a doctor, not a mechanic,” Shuu says, sounding actually offended. He wheels himself into the building as Kazuaki holds the door, and it nearly slams shut on the trailing ends of his hair.

 

“Pardon me, I hadn’t realized your talents were limited only to the medical field,” Kazuaki says, already down the hall near the elevator. Shuu rolls himself to a stop in front of it. 

 

Shuu huffs, his version of a genuine laugh. “On the contrary, I have many talents. They do not, however, extend to the creation of remote-controlled wheelchairs from scratch,”

 

Kazuaki nods, pretending to be sympathetic. “I see, I see. Well, keep studying, I’m sure you’ll get there if you keep up with your lessons. That’s what I tell my students, anyway,”

 

The elevator dings and slides open. Kazuaki steps inside first, holding down the ‘door open’ button as Shuu wheels himself inside. It’s barely big enough to fit both of them, and the mirrored walls make it seem smaller, not larger.

 

They ride in silence up until the third floor, where the doors open and Kazuaki pushes Shuu into the hallway and to the right. Their apartment number is 304, not too far but not close enough that they have to hear every arrival of the elevator. 

 

Kazuaki gets the door, as usual, and then pushes Shuu inside. It’s pitch dark, as always. They both invested in room-darkening blinds a long time ago. It helps Kazuaki sleep and Shuu work, even though anyone else who visits their room always say it’s ‘really creepy’.

 

The lights blaze on. The blinds open. Kazuaki wishes he still bothered to carry around his gun, because clearly they’re being attacked. Probably by the police, actually. Either for him or Shuu, and he honestly shouldn’t be surprised.

 

Except when the glare dims down, it’s just Kawara and Shirogane, standing in the middle of the room by the table. There’s a cake on it. With candles. Actually, Higure is standing a little bit behind them, looking nervous. And there’s Okosan, flapping excitedly beside him. Even Sakazaki is slouching against the wall, grinning.

 

“Happy birthday, sensei,” says Ryouta, looking sheepish. 

 

Kazuaki stares. Then he looks down at Shuu, who smiles, looking almost as amused as the time he caught Kazuaki trying to poison his tea.

 

“I do happen to have Uzune Hitori’s birth date on file,” he says. “And Kawara here was able to confirm it regardless. Miss Tosaka and Fujishiro Nageki were quite insistent on having a decent-sized birthday party,”

 

The date, he realizes belatedly, is September 23rd. Uzune Hitori’s birthday. 

 

Shirogane makes impatient noise. “Come on, then. The wax will melt on the cake,”

 

Hitori wheels Shuu closer to the table, staring. The cake’s candles are indeed lit, and someone’s scrawled ‘happy birthday!’ in script frosting. There are only a few candles. He supposes he should be flattered none of them seem to know his actual age. 

 

“Make a wish, sensei!” says Kawara, and it’s echoed by Shirogane and the others.

 

He looks down at the cake and takes a deep breath. And blows out the candles. He doesn’t make a wish, though. He has little to wish for, at this point. 

 

“Thank you,” Hitori says, and means it.

 

Kawara smiles, and for a moment, Hitori sees a younger, more familiar face looking back at him. Then the others are all pushing for a slice of cake, and Shuu is reaching forward with a sizable knife. 

 

“Who gave the doctor the cleaver?” demands Sakazaki, taking a few steps backward.

 

Anghel looks equally apprehensive. “The Dark Sorcerer cannot be trusted with the holy act of slaying confections,” he agrees.

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Kawara says, as Shuu cuts into the cake neatly.

 

A slice gets placed on a paper plate and handed to Hitori, who takes it and a plastic fork. He scoops up a bit and pops it into his mouth. Vanilla with some kind of lemon-y flavor. It’s clearly store-bought, but it tastes good, which is what really matters.

 

Okosan keeps demanding a larger slice, at least until Shuu threatens to dismember him. Sakazaki and Shirogane are arguing over something or other, while Kawara tries to break them up. Higure shouts in the background, something about the powers of cake and lemon frosting.

 

It’s crowded and loud, and there are _so_ many of them, and Hitori would really like to take a nap. 

 

But this is all right, too. 

 

(Somewhere, Hiyoko holds her hand up for a high five. Nageki grudgingly obliges her.) 


End file.
